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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695078">The Tunnels</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholeachilleus/pseuds/assholeachilleus'>assholeachilleus</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Deaf!jon au [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Deaf!Jon, M/M, Trans!Martin, elias tries but the found family feels are too strong, headarchivist!sasha, its rated t bc tim says fuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 08:08:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,130</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28695078</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholeachilleus/pseuds/assholeachilleus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Elias tries to separate Jon from the other archivists, but it doesn't go exactly as planned. Part of my deaf!jon au, I would recommend reading Plan in Place for context first.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Deaf!jon au [12]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2072478</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Uploading on the first day of the week????? Apparently I am that bitch kjksdjkdj. </p>
<p>elias tries it but the gang will destroy him with the power of love, and also this knife martin found jkdjjfk. unfortunately elias does not get stabbed in this fic but we can hope. the archivists have all the brain cells I am shook. </p>
<p>Thank you to everyone who reads, leaves kudos, and comments, I would literally die for you all &lt;3 </p>
<p>Hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon once again found himself in Elias’ office, the huge desk looming ominously in front of him, the hard wood of the chair biting into his legs and back. The office was as gloomy as ever, the dull yellow light swallowed whole in the dark corners by inky waves and dancing shadows that appeared to ripple and splash, mimicking water. The green rectangular shade of the lamp washed the desk in a sickly pale light, making the rich wood look jaundice and ill. </p>
<p>Elias sat behind his desk, an expression that was irritatingly close to self-satisfied gracing his pinched face. “I am thrilled you have decided to help me out with this. You have such promise and I would hate to see that go to waste.” He leafed through a cream folder on his desk, the papers inside rattling against each other like white bones stained from age. </p>
<p>Jon felt a nervousness creep into his chest, tightening around his heart. “What will this entail exactly? And how does it affect the work I’m already doing?” </p>
<p>Elias poured himself water from a crystal decanter, cut with sharp lines creating fractal patterns that climbed and stretched and wound around the base. “Well, as I have said before, this work will involve looking into the entity known as the Stranger. I have selected some statements that I feel could be connected, but ultimately it will be up to your own judgement.” He watched Jon with a cool, expressionless observation. “I want you to focus particularly on their ritual, and the ways in which they have been disrupted in the past.” </p>
<p>Jon nodded. “I can, ah, I can do that. Is, is anyone else going to help me with this?” </p>
<p>Elias frowned deeply, his mouth thinning out into a line. “I apologise, Jon. Perhaps I was not quite clear, this will be something you undertake alone.” A pause. “And you cannot tell any of the others what you are doing.” </p>
<p>Jon felt an icy shiver skitter across his skin. “Not, not even Sasha? I mean, she is the head archivist.” But Sasha wasn’t really who he was thinking about. How was he going to keep this from Martin? He would know something was up. He always knew. </p>
<p>Elias’ voice was clipped and cold. “And I am the head of the Institute. I need you to undertake this with the utmost discrepancy, this must stay between us.” Jon was of no doubt there was an underlying threat to his words, his eyes alight with icy flames. </p>
<p>Jon felt guilt settle cold and hard like cement in his gut. He took a shaky breath. “Yes, I, ah, I understand.” </p>
<p>Elias smiled, but there was no warmth to it. “Great.” He handed Jon the cream folder. “Why not get started with these statements, and I will be in touch.” </p>
<p>Jon took the folder numbly, his arm reaching out of its own accord, fingers clasping around the papers before he had even thought about doing it. He frowned. </p>
<p>“If that is all?” Elias asked, already distracted with something else on his desk, pen scratching across the paper. </p>
<p>“Yes, ah, yes.” Jon turned to leave, opening the thick door, and glancing back. But Elias didn’t look up, so he left.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jon’s footsteps echoed out, reverberating off the cold stone walls like gunshots in the silence of the corridor. A hazy grey fog filled his head, thoughts evaporating like tendrils of smoke, impossible to pin down no matter how hard he tried. </p>
<p>Suddenly a tight hand gripped his arm, and Jon looked up. Tim was smiling at him, but his smile seemed off. Jon could see the strain lines that threatened to transform it into a grimace pulling at the corners of his mouth. </p>
<p>“Jon! Hi, great to see you.” Tim’s voice felt like an assault on his ears, oozing brightness, and about three octaves too high. </p>
<p>“Tim.” Jon let his confusion bleed into his voice. “You saw me less than fifteen minutes ago.” Tim was still gripping his arm, dragging Jon along at a pace that hurt his ankles, and caused him to stumble occasionally, off-balanced by Tim’s added weight on his arm. </p>
<p>“Yes! I did, didn’t I? Well, I, er I missed you! And I wondered whether you wanted to get some lunch?” Jon frowned, trying to dig his heels into the unforgiving stone floor, and concerned as a dull ache spread through his arm. </p>
<p>“Tim, it’s ten in the morning.” Jon tried and failed to halt their painful progress, nearly falling down the stairs as Tim pulled from two steps below. He noticed the further they got from Elias’ office, inch by inch Tim’s smile fell, his voice returning to a somewhat normal volume and pitch. </p>
<p>“Well, we can go for a drink then.” He replied distractedly, not looking back, his eyes darting around at every face they passed. Jon was starting to feel like a begrudged marionette. </p>
<p>“That’s, that’s worse, Tim, you understand that, right?” With a jolt of sickly panic, Jon realised the weak streams of glittering light that pierced the tall windows was now non-existent, and a coldness creeped into his skin as the stone walls got rougher, marked with an assortment of scratches, holes, and dark stains. “Tim. Where are we going?” </p>
<p>Tim dragged him down deeper into the stomach of the institute, and that oppressive blanket of being watched lifted. Not like before, where a small corner allowed him some breathing room, to relax his shoulders slightly, and to push it to the back of his mind. But it fully lifted, as though torn away in a frenzy of violence. His chest felt lighter instantly. <br/>“Just trust me. We’ll be there soon.” Jon nodded numbly, allowing himself to be dragged down a small concrete staircase with no railing, through a worn wooden door, and into what looked like a maze of spewing corridors, each containing dancing dark shadows and endless stretches of bland grey stone. </p>
<p>“Wait are these-” But Jon’s question was cut off by Sasha’s authoritative voice, and he noticed she was standing to the side, blanketed in dark shadows that swept across her face. And next to her was Martin, shuffling his feet and glancing around obsessively. </p>
<p>“Welcome to the tunnels.” Sasha grinned, opening her arms to indicate the mass of walkways that skittered out like spiders legs. Martin smiled sheepishly, his shoulders relaxing marginally when he saw Jon. </p>
<p>Jon’s tongue felt like lead in his mouth. “Right, ah, why, why are we here?” </p>
<p>Sasha sighed. “Tim didn’t tell you? Typical. This is where we meet when we want to discuss things that…” Her dark eyes glided over and around the tunnels, as if looking for any signs that someone else was here. Satisfied they were alone, she pushed her glasses up and continued. “We don’t want Elias or anyone else to overhear.” </p>
<p>Tim spoke, his voice normal and even once again. “Look, I couldn’t explain back there, and I am sorry for nearly yanking your arm off, but it’s important we talk where we can’t be heard.” </p>
<p>He flashed Jon a soppy smile, although there was a burning seriousness in his eyes. Jon nodded, although confusion hung grey and heavy in his mind. </p>
<p>“We, er, we found this place soon after Sasha became head archivist. It, um, it’s a bit creepy, sure, but mostly harmless.” Martin paused, frowning. “Well apart from when Jane Prentiss attacked and got in through here. Or when Michael sent me and Tim through that door. Um, maybe not so harmless then. But, er, definitely private.” </p>
<p>Jon smiled fondly. “Right, ah, but why do we need privacy? And privacy from what, or who?” </p>
<p>Sasha smiled, her teeth splashed stark white against her dark skin. “You must have felt it when you started? That watched feeling.” Jon hesitated for a moment, but then nodded. “Well, we noticed it straight away when I took over as head archivist. And, well, we came to the conclusion that it’s the eye. But, for whatever reason, it can’t see us down here. So, hence privacy.” </p>
<p>“The eye? Of Smirk’s fourteen?” Jon frowned. “So you think the Institute is working for the eye?” </p>
<p>Sasha’s eyebrows pulled together in thought, her head tilting to the side. “Sort of. We definitely think the institute is a...vessel shall we say for the eye. A means of watching. But it in itself is not enough.” Her eyes kindled with an intense seriousness. “You may have noticed how the other powers have people who work for them, like avatars, who serve the entity. Well, it stands to reason the eye would need an avatar too.” </p>
<p>Jon finally felt clarity seep into his mind, expelling the hazy fog. “And you think it’s Elias. The avatar for the eye, I mean.” </p>
<p>Sasha grinned like a proud teacher. “Exactly! It makes sense, I mean, before working here Elias got a third in his degree and was known for being a pothead. How does a man like that suddenly wake up one day with ambitions of running an Institute?” </p>
<p>“And well, he certainly seems to know a lot. Um, about us I mean.” Martin said, hands wringing over each other in front of him. Jon resisted the urge to reach out and hold them. </p>
<p>“And he’s definitely creepy enough.” Tim reasoned, eyes bright with childlike playfulness. Jon couldn’t really argue with that. </p>
<p>“Anyway,” Sasha said, rolling her eyes, but there was no annoyance behind the gesture. “What did Elias talk to you about, in his office?”</p>
<p>Jon hesitated, indecision clawing at his throat. He had said he wouldn’t tell the others. But Elias couldn’t see them down here, right? And honestly, who did he trust more, two good friends and the man he loved, or some creepy boss who apparently had even creepier voyeuristic tendencies. In the end, the choice made itself. </p>
<p>He swallowed against a dry throat, the air down here was damp and cloying. “He said he wanted me to do some work for him. About the stranger. Reading statements, independent research, that kind of thing.” Jon watched as Sasha’s eyebrows raised in alarm, her mouth pinching into a tight line. He lowered his eyes to the ground. “I, ah, I said I would.” Warm shame squirmed in his gut. </p>
<p>Martin reached out and took his hand. “It’s, um, it’s really not your fault, Jon. Elias can, er, he can be very good at framing something as a choice, but not, um, really giving an option.” </p>
<p>Jon squeezed his hand, delighting in the warmth that seeped into his frozen fingers. </p>
<p>“And, you can be our man on the inside. Our double agent. Like a spy.” Tim said, grinning widely, his eyes bright. </p>
<p>“Technically, we’re all on the inside, Tim.” Sasha shook her head. “But Martin’s right, there was nothing else you could’ve done.” She offered him a kind smile, one he felt thoroughly undeserving of but took selfishly anyway. Tim muttered about never being able to have any fun around here, and her smile widened. </p>
<p>“I, ah, thank you.” Jon said, his voice sounding far too loud as it reverberated around the cold, stone tunnels. </p>
<p>Sasha sighed, tucking bouncing curls around her ears, which sprung up in the exact same place as before. “It does make me concerned that Elias is suddenly taking an interest in the stranger though. It could mean he’s expecting them to attempt a ritual soon.” </p>
<p>“Surely he would’ve said? I mean, that’s putting us, in, well, a lot of danger. He wouldn’t do that.” Martin paused, glancing around the small group. “Would he?” </p>
<p>Tim scoffed dismissively. “I wouldn’t put it past him. Sometimes I feel like we’re all lab rats in his fucked-up experiment.” </p>
<p>Martin made a noise of discomfort, seemingly melting back into the shadows that thrived down here, their reaching arms wrapping around him in a mocking hug. </p>
<p>“We have to assume the worst.” Sasha said, a grim determination on her face. “Jon, if you’re comfortable with it, I want you to work as closely as possible with Elias. We need to know what he knows, and, unfortunately, you're our best bet.” </p>
<p>Jon nodded. “Yeah, I’ll, ah, I’ll see what I can find out.” </p>
<p>“Be careful.” Sasha warned, her stern gaze boring into him. “Elias is dangerous and we don’t know what he’s capable of. I mean, we think he killed Gertrude, so...” </p>
<p>A heavy silence fell, only broken by the faint dripping of water that could be heard down in the tunnels, and the sound of footsteps scraping across the floor above. </p>
<p>Jon cleared his throat. “I will.” </p>
<p>Sasha smiled, warmth seeping out of her. “Right. Let’s get back. The last thing we want is Elias to notice we’ve all gone awol.” </p>
<p>“Yeah.” Tim laughed. “He might fire us.”</p>
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